


For Better or Worse

by lifliflifr



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Crack, Junkenstein's Revenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 00:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifliflifr/pseuds/lifliflifr
Summary: To be fair, if Jack had known that his ex would be dramatic enough to literally crawl out of the grave to stay true to their wedding vows, he might have thought twice about marrying that son of a bitch.(Oh, who is he kidding.)





	For Better or Worse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arsecontroversy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsecontroversy/gifts).



In the middle of battle against another wave of assault by Dr. Junkenstein and his bizarre creations, Jack Morrison yawns. He times it so that the movement of his body pushes the aim of his pulse rifle slightly off-kilter, taking out a stray zomnic sneaking from the side. Without looking, he shoots a helix rocket at one of the minions by the door, killing it before it has time to self-destruct.

 

Tonight is the third night of siege since the mad scientist has declared his nefarious intentions towards the residents inside the castle, and Jack is bored to tears.

 

While all the exploding tires have been exciting on the first day, multiple nights of it in a row just shows a rather magnificent lack of imagination on the good doctor's part. The patterns of the zomnics movement have also become predictable after a while, making him wonder just when the 'mad' part of the 'mad scientist' moniker will finally come to play. Frankly, flinging bombs is mere childplay in terms of the depth of insanity one can venture into. Hell, he's had to deal with worse coming from his ex-husband, even before they had broken up and the man, equal parts gorgeous and dangerous, decided to set his house on fire.

 

In between rounds of pulse ammunitions, Jack tries to exchange pleasantries with his fellow companions. They are not the talkative sort - mercenaries rarely are - but he manages to maintain a steady flow of cordial conversation with an archer, who is apparently a demon travelling from an Eastern country.

 

The details of the archer's travels are rather fascinating, which is the excuse Jack plans on using for not noticing the pool of shadow that slowly crawls up the ledge where he stands. By the time he looks down, it's too late, and a claw clasps over his mouth and pushes him over the edge.

 

As he falls, he takes a good look at the face of his assailant and groans at the sight of an all-too-familiar jack-o-lantern grinning back at him. He propels his body sideways to land on his feet, and immediately raises his pulse rifle.

 

"You," Jack accuses.

 

"Hey. Fancy meeting you here," Reaper says in a menacing tone, looking mightily cheerful for a psychopath who hasn't drawn any blood yet.

 

Wait. Jack takes that back. He licks his lips, and the sharp metallic taste confirms it for him. Fuck. The claw has scratched up his face. No wonder the fucker looks so cheery.

 

Without a blink, he fires a few rounds at the gaudy pumpkin head. It hits smoke instead, scattering black particles into the air from the impact. Like a converging trail of slithering serpents, the smoke coalesces into substance as Reaper reforms himself uncomfortably close to Jack. The head is tilted slightly, as if amused by the failed attempt to harm him.

 

Jack throws out an elbow, which is easily deflected. A flash of silver aims for his throat, and he dodges to the right just in the nick of time. In retaliation, he grabs hold of one of Reaper's arms just as Reaper presses a clawed hand to his waist, tearing up his jacket further. In this position, it might look like they're dancing under the moonlight to an outsider, but the blood thrumming through Jack's veins speaks a lot about how precarious of a situation they're in.

 

"Not even a greeting for your husband after so long?" Reaper whispers in his ear. "I'm hurt."

 

"Ex-husband," Jack responds automatically. "Besides, I saw you only a week ago, when you sabotaged my payload delivery. And three days before that, when you tried to drown me in a bathtub. I'd rather not see you for longer, actually."

 

The cut in his pay for all the missions that Reaper fucked over has been a painful blow to his budget. And that's saying something considering that he's been getting by with the minimal amount of supplies needed to keep living.

 

"That's hardly my fault. I just do what the witch tells me to do, and you just happen to be there every time. You know the only way to stop the vow from tying us together like a bungee cord is for one of us to drop dead." Reaper gestures at himself. "And I've already tried that, so now it's your turn."

 

Instincts flaring, Jack kicks Reaper away just as two shotguns appears in his hands.

 

Far away enough, the shotgun blow leaves a vicious sting around his chest, instead of splattering his heart out the way it would have if the distance had been closer. He still gets propelled backwards from the force of it anyways, but he uses this opportunity to duck behind a wall as another gunshot rings over his head.

 

When Reaper teleports closer, he sends out a helix rocket that has the other stepping back to avoid being caught by the explosive impact.

 

"Yeah, well tough luck." Jack sneers. While the other is still distracted, he quickly reloads his pulse rifle. "I sure as hell don't plan on kicking the bucket any time soon, so I think you should try dying again and seeing if it takes."

 

They exchange banter back and forth, the same way they exchange bullets and flesh wounds. At some point, Jack manages to get a nice kick to bruise the other's ribcage, and he receives another slash wound on his left leg that has him limping. Jack is grinning a little from the adrenaline, and if Reaper's head isn't an immobile object, he would be too.

 

But an arrow pierces itself into the pavement between them, and Jack finally remembers the mission.

 

Cursing, he turns to the castle entrance where the archer, the alchemist, and the swordsman are struggling against a hoard of resurrected zomnics and the Junkenstein's monster. The witch herself has appeared, apparently having decided to team up with Dr. Junkenstein to support the mob with her dark witchcraft.

 

"Noticed, haven't you?" Reaper hums in grim amusement. "The castle will fall soon. And there's not a thing you mortals can do to stop it."

 

Luckily, Reaper lets Jack go without giving chase, and the soldier limps back to his allies, killing a few straggling zomnics along the way.

 

The archer gives him a questioning look, and he shrugs. "Just my ex."

 

"Ah," the archer appears taken aback at that. But not too much. "Bad breakup?"

 

"It's complicated." Jack grimaces, thinking back to the number of outfits his ex has burnt to ashes in a fit of sadism. Gabriel never did like his fashion sense. "Long story short. He got himself killed in battle, and the witch revived him as her servant. I kind of, uh, accidentally-shot-at-him after he came back from the dead. So we've been at each other's throats ever since."

 

There had been a lot more to that story, involving drowning sorrows in alcohol and hugging a tombstone while bawling and then subsequently screaming in fear when a half-decomposing hand grabbed his foot from below the earth, but Jack would rather not talk about any of that. So maybe he doesn't do well coping with grief, but he's not the only one.

 

"Having the dead come back to life always complicates things," the archer says sympathetically.

 

He shoots three arrows consecutively through the Junkenstein monster's heart, and the being falls to the ground with a heavy thud. But the witch merely laughs, and with an sickly gold swirl of magic, the monster rises to its feet once again and roars. By now, Reaper has joined the witch's side, and appears to be listening to her instructions as he nods in acknowledgement.

 

"So," the archer pauses, evidently trying to figure out how to phrase it delicately. It's almost sweet, for a demon who slurps human souls for breakfast. "That pumpkin head."

 

"It's a long story," Jack says.

 

It really isn't a long story. Everything could have been succinctly explained by the fact that Jack apparently has terrible taste in men and undeads alike. But in his defense, he had been seduced by Gabriel's wicked beard and too blinded by the sparkles and roses of first love to see Gabriel's dramatic flair as anything but charming. It had only become a bit of a problem when the man had insisted on wearing that pumpkin head in bed, and by then Jack had been in too deep to escape.

 

The archer gives Reaper another look, and says, "Fair enough."

 

An indignant shriek interrupts their conversation. Jack follows the direction of the noise to the clearing where the witch is now standing by herself, clutching her head. She glares at the sky - at the moon? At some point during their battle, clouds have started covering the sky, and the full moon is on the verge of being engulfed into the darkness.

 

Hissing out a magical command, all of the undead creatures clamours and wobbles in confusion. One by one, they begin to crawl back towards the witch, who has picked up her broomstick and risen to the sky. The mad doctor Junkenstein is shaking his fist in the air, chasing after her until he, too, disappears from the view.

 

"It appears that the battle is over," the swordsman says, startling Jack as he jumps off from a tall ledge on the wall. "The enemies are no match for us."

 

"Come, let us rest." The alchemist gestures towards the castle door, which has cracked open just wide enough for one person to slip through at a time. "The witch's power waxes and wanes with the flow of the moonlight. There will be no further attacks today."

 

"How do you know so much about the nature of the witch?" The swordsman asks curiously, tilting his head in interest.

 

"Just a little research, that is all. I suppose you can say it is to help a pair of good friends of mine."

 

The alchemist doesn't turn towards him, but Jack clenches his fist a little anyways, feeling the weight of the words on his shoulders. Something in his demeanor must have give him away, because the archer briefly glances in his general direction before looking away.

 

"Let us not dawdle any longer," the archer says. "We need to save our strength for tomorrow, and find a way to deal with the witch. We cannot rely on the mercurial weather to save us next time."

 

Agreeing with that, one by one, they head through the castle door. Jack is one of the last to leave. By then, the weather has taken a turn for the worse, and he can feel the tiniest droplets of rain landing on his skin. As he crosses the threshold, a flash of lightning bolts across the sky. Jack reflexively looks back, wanting to catch the tail end of the lightning strike, but instead, he catches sight of Reaper standing right outside.

 

For a good moment, neither of them moves. The thunder cackles. Rain has begin to pelt down heavily upon Reaper, but if he has noticed, he doesn't give any indication of it. He just stands there, still as a statue. Although the entity has no true eyes, Jack still shivers as if he can feel the presence of a gaze upon him.

 

"Reaper?" He calls softly.

 

It's crazy and probably one of the stupidest thing Jack will ever do in his life, but after another few seconds of receiving no response, he grabs Reaper by the front of his cloak and hauls the undead into the castle.

 

The large door slams shut behind them, sealing their fate.

 

The swordsman is the first one to notice their new guest, and he immediately jumps into fighting stance. "What is the reaper doing here?" 

 

"Ja- Soldier?" The alchemist says, sounding calm but wary. She, too, has her rifle trained on the newcomer, ready to shoot if necessary - though mostly as a precaution, Jack figures.

 

"I can explain." Jack rubs his forehead, feeling his age for once. What a fine mess this is all turning into.

 

"What are you looking at," Reaper growls, giving every individual in the group a glare as if daring them to attack.

 

"You. Shut up." Jack then turns to address the rest of their little entourage. "The rest of you, get out. I need to talk to Reaper for a second."

 

Of course, none of them leaves. Instead, both of them get bombarded with a pile of questions, as well as some projectiles when words become a little too heated. The chaos only takes a break when the swordsman's katana slash towards Reaper's head ends up sending the pumpkin flying, leaving a rather irritated headless body behind. It's a little hard to appear offended without a head or a face to express such emotions, but the body manages it somehow.

 

"Any last words?" The headless body threatens, brandishing a pair of shotguns in the group's general direction.

 

"How is it talking without a head?" The archer sounds equal parts mystified and horrified. "Throughout my lifetime, I have seen many different kinds of undead. Yet not one of them can move with their head detached. What sort of creature are you?"

 

"A monster," Jack says.

 

"In bed," Reaper adds.

 

Primed from years of interaction, Jack automatically elbows him, and he lets out a rough bark of laughter in response. This type of interaction is so reminiscent of their old life that Jack has to do a double-take to make sure he hasn't imagined it.

 

"Speaking of heads, that reminds me." Reaper turns towards Jack and holds out one hand. "I need it back."

 

"No."

 

"You have Gabe's head?" The alchemist exclaims, frowning in concern at Jack. Now everyone in the room is staring at him. Great.

 

"His skull, yes. But he specifically left it to me in his will when he passed on," Jack defends. "Byron, a nineteenth century poet, made made a drinking cup out of a skull. Gabe left his skull to me to be remade for that same purpose. It's supposed to be romantic. I think?"

 

Let it be known that Jack has a grand total of zero romantic bones in his body, so he usually defers to Gabriel's judgement on these things. To him, a romantic dinner date sounds more terrifying than an assassination attempt any time of the year. Thus, what had ensued back then had been an exchange of venomous and thorny roses, strange poetry sessions that sounded more like the soliloquy of Saturday cartoon villains, and a themed wedding that reminded him more of a Halloween masquerade instead. But Jack hadn't minded any of that. He just liked being around Gabriel.

 

Which is how they have ended up where they are. Really, Jack only has himself to blame.

 

"Since when do you read poetry?" Reaper asks.

 

Since you died, dumbass, Jack thinks mutinously. "I don't read poetry," he lies, even though he totally had.

 

It hadn't been a good look on him; he doesn't even like poetry. But for those first few weeks after Gabriel had died, he spent it half in an alcoholic haze and half weeping as he recited some of Gabriel's favourite poems over and over again as if they contained something truly profound about the meaning of life. But in actuality he didn't understand a word of it.

 

"My memory is patchy nowadays. I don't recall leaving you my skull in the will," Reaper muses. "But it's not out of realms of possibility for something I would do."

 

"I can give the skull cup thing back to you. It looks better than that pumpkin head anyway," Jack offers.

 

With a swirl of dark tendrils, Reaper teleports the pumpkin in question into his hands. He fiddles with it for a bit, and then plops it back onto his head.

 

"The carving on this is a masterpiece, thank you very much."

 

"Are we going to address the fact that you two seem to know each other?" The swordsman interjects. "And argues like an old married couple?"

 

They glance at each other. "It's a long story, Jack tries.

 

"No it isn't. You're just terrible storyteller. Let me."

 

Without a pause, Reaper launches into a fantastical retelling of their life together that is ten times longer than the way Jack would have explained it. There is also an unexpectedly large amount of existential horror and gore. The genre of the story switches into a murder mystery somewhere in the middle, but Jack thinks that Reaper is actually trying to give their story a romantic touch and he feels a little moved by the effort.

 

The archer rubs his forehead in consternation. "So allow me to summarize that epic tale." He gestures to Reaper and Jack. "The reaper and the soldier were married, but the former had died in in battle some time ago. Taking this opportunity, the witch revived him and enslaved him using a spell to do her biddings."

 

"So, this witch transformed your ex-husband into a murderous pumpkin head-wearing mad man?" The swordsman crosses his arms. "The evils of the witch truly have no bounds."

 

"No, that's just Gabe," Jack and the alchemist replies at the same time.

 

After a brief pause, the archer turns to the alchemist. "You know the reaper too?"

 

"It's a long story," the alchemist says.

 

"Right," the archer hurries, no doubt still traumatized by the last storytelling session. "Moving on. So if i had understood correctly, when the witch's power has weakened, her hold on the reaper has also weakened. This is why our soldier comrade has taken the opportunity to capture the reaper before her influence returns."

 

Jack coughs, but doesn't correct the demon. The alchemist gives him a knowing look.

 

"The witch does not command me at the moment," Reaper agrees. "The loss of moonlight has reduced the effects of her curse."

 

"Right," Jack says awkwardly. "Yes. That's why I took him into the castle. The witch is our enemy. Any move that may help us gain a tactical advantage over her should be taken."

 

Reaper scoffs. "Tactical advantage my ass. You wouldn't know tactics if it hits you in the face."

 

Jack turns to glare at him. "How would you know? You barely remember anything."

 

"Please. Nothing in the world would make me forget your ugly mug," Reaper retorts.

 

Jack probably shouldn't consider that to be romantic, but some tiny part of him swoons anyways. Then again, that tiny part of him would swoon from Gabriel basically doing anything in his vincinity, so that doesn't count.

 

"Anyway." The archer clears his throat. "There is one part of the tale that I do not understand. You mentioned something about a vow?"

 

"We're not talking about that," Jack warns.

 

"To be fair," Reaper rubs his pumpkin chin thoughtfully. "I didn't realize that the blood ritual to bind our fates together was a real one when I included it in our wedding ceremony."

 

Noticing the facial expressions of everyone around him, Reaper crosses his arms defensively.

 

"What? I thought it would fit the wedding's theme.

 

It actually had fit the wedding's theme, which is another indication that Jack's woes are entirely self-inflicted by the fact that he cannot say no to Gabriel at all.

 

To be fair, if Jack had known that his ex would be dramatic enough to literally crawl out of the grave to stay true to their wedding vows, he might have thought twice about marrying that son of a bitch.

 

(Oh, who is he kidding.)

 

"I can confirm that it certainly fits the haunting atmosphere of the wedding. I was the groomsmaid," the alchemist helpfully supplies. "Many people cried. So had Jack."

 

"Don't say my name," Jack hisses, waving his hand frantically in the woman's direction. It only occurs to him later that this action has only confirmed that the random name that the alchemist mentioned is in fact his.

 

"You literally told your life's story to our companions, and you're worried about your secret identity?" The alchemist says dryly. "Well, for the sake of fairness, I suppose I might as well reveal mine too. My name is Ana. I hope we get along well."

 

The other two exchange a brief glance at one another, seeming to have come to an agreement wordlessly. The archer moves forward first. "Very well. It seems that we may become good allies in the future. I am Hanzo, a demon archer from the East."

 

"And I am Genji, a demon swordsman from the East." The swordsman gives a salute. "We are brothers."

 

"I am Reaper," Reaper says sternly. "Gabriel is my alive name, so do not call me that."

 

Ana shoots Jack an accusing look, one that says: you married him. And all he can do is sigh, because yes, he did marry that dramatic motherfucker. Nobody has ever accused Jack of having good judgement, okay?

 

"It's a pleasure, Reaper." Genji gives the pumpkin a nod. "Your knowledge in battle may prove to be useful to us. You have been under the witch's spell for quite some time. Do you have any insight on how we can defeat her?"

 

"I can take you to her lair. After losing her power, she usually spends her time recuperating at her base. If we catch her by surprise, we can take her out before she summons any minions."

 

"Then it is agreed," Hanzo says. "Tomorrow before the sun sets, we leave for the witch's lair."

 

The rest of the night ends without much fanfare, as they each retire to their individual quarters. Reaper is to be roomed with Jack, and both of them grumble about it without voicing any true complaints.

 

They fall asleep back to back as close to the edges of the bed as they can get, and wakes up in the morning, legs tangled together.

 

This is the second time in Jack's life where he wakes up in the morning face to face with a pumpkin head, and instead of freaking out like last time, he just closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

"Greetings, Ana," Genji says as the alchemist joins them at the table. "I hope you've had a good night's rest."

 

She smiles kindly in return. "Thank you. I was able to sleep in peace for once while knowing that my dear friends have reunited again."

 

"Short though their reunion may be, it is certainly a lively one," Hanzo muses, his gaze  focused off to the side where the ruckus is.

 

The reaper is prowling towards the soldier like a panther stalking its prey, guns drawn and poised to fire. He kicks a chair towards Jack, the man dodging just in time for it to sail over his head and break against the wall. Another table is spun over just in time to shield the man from shotgun bullets pelting towards him. They will compensate for the property damage by taking it out of Jack's pay, Ana decides with a wince.

 

"Do you suppose there is a chance that the reaper may withdraw his aid? There certainly appears to be enough bad blood between the two to warrant some precaution."

 

"I wouldn't worry about it," Ana replies as she takes a sip of her tea. "Gabe and Jack have always been this way, even before their divorce."

 

"If this is the way they were when their relationship was good, I would hate to see what they are like when they hate each other," Hanzo murmurs, frowning as a large dent on the wall is created from the fight.

 

On the other hand, Genji seems rather entertained by the chaos. He leans back just in time to avoid getting caught in their tousle. "Excuse me if I'm being rude, but what is the reason for their divorce? To me, they look like they are perfect for each other."

 

"As you may have inferred, fights are rather common between them. I believe they enjoy it actually." Ana shakes her head. "Pardon my crudeness, but I think the only reason these two idiots break up all the time is to use the excuse to have breakup sex and make-up sex. And somewhere-in-between sex. And hate-sex. I'm still not entirely convinced that all this death and resurrection hoopla isn't a grand scheme between them to have undead sex."

 

Jack puts a temporary stop to the fight and sends Ana a pained look. "Please stop saying sex."

 

"Sex," Reaper says, as helpful as ever.

 

The brief truce is over before it barely begins. This time, it's Jack who chases after Reaper with his pulse rifle firing.

 

"You get used to all the mutual murder attempts after a while," Ana tells the demon brothers.

 

"Ah," Hanzo says, sounding faintly alarmed.

 

Genji just laughs. "You humans are entertaining. I am glad that my brother and I accepted this mission."

 

* * *

 

When it's around the time to leave, Ana pokes her head into the demon brothers' room. She is frowning a little, looking confused and a little worried.

 

"Have any of you seen Jack and Gabe?"

 

"No. Not since this morning." Genji hops up from where he has been sitting. "Have they left already?"

 

"No. Jack's pulse rifle is still back in his room, and the old fool never goes anywhere without it." Ana's frown deepens. "Not voluntarily at least."

 

"Wait. You don't mean-" Hanzo quickly rises to his feet. "You don't suppose that the reaper has kidnapped him?"

 

The alchemist and the archer exchange some uneasy looks.

 

"It's possible," Ana says.

 

Having been fiddling with something in the corner while they talked, Genji returns with what appears to be a baseball-sized floating eyeball.

 

"Lucky for us, I tagged the reaper during our first meeting yesterday." With a hand gesture, the swordsman sends the eyeball forward. "This is one of my master's contraptions. He has allowed me to borrow it for the time being. The other eye of the pair is following the reaper as we speak."

 

"Is this the same master who has been trying to call forth the end of the world?" Hanzo asks.

 

"Master Zenyatta tends to tread a fine line between the sane and insane," Genji admits. "But he has an endless amount of insights, some of which have helped me cope with the anger I have felt in my youth. But never mind that. We need to leave now to catch up with them before it's too late. Let's go!"

 

The floating eyeball leads the way, and the three mercenaries hurry to follow.

 

* * *

 

"Mmph!"

 

"Not for long now, my dear. And all of this will be over." Reaper is lugging along a gagged and tied up Jack as he makes his way through the thickets in the forest. "The witch awaits."

 

Jack is very much displeased with the situation, and he has been showing his displeasure by biting and clawing at every part of Reaper he can find. Which is why he is now gagged and tied so securely that all he can do is wriggle like a worm.

 

If glares can kill, Reaper would have been dead twice over. But since it unfortunately can't, all Jack is able to do is entertain himself with the mental image of caving in that pumpkin head once he is freed from his restraints. Bondage is decidedly less fun when his partner is not expressing even any remote interest towards him.

 

The witch greets them by the entrance to her lair, looking very much prepared for their arrival. "Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in. The infamous soldier." She smiles slowly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

 

Unceremoniously, Reaper deposits Jack in front of the woman. He cuts off the ropes holding the gag in place with his sharp claws, and the soldier spats the gag out.

 

"Damn it, Gabe," Jack hisses, feeling a little hurt but mostly exasperated. "Was this your plan all along?"

 

"Gabe is not my name," Reaper hums, his bodily posture giving nothing away as to what he is truly thinking. "Not anymore."

 

"Well said. Thank you, Reaper. You have done a commendable job." The witch lets out a pearl of cold laughter. Then, to Jack, she explains: "I was the one who asked him to bring you to me. And like a good little follower, here you are."

 

"Fuck off," Jack spats.

 

"Such a mouth on you," the witch tsks, but she brightens quickly as an idea comes to her mind. "Oh, but there is no need for a servant to have a mouth. I think I'd like to remove it before I make you an official member of my undead legion. Having no voice will be no hinder to your skills on the battlefield, especially to a lone wolf such as you."

 

"Gabe," Jack hisses again, glaring at the impassive pumpkin head.

 

In the blink of an eye, Reaper pulls the soldier up by head hair. Kneeling down to ear level, he whispers: "Always so foolishly trusting, Jack. Always rushing in."

 

The words feel like a cold bucket of water dumped down Jack's spine.

 

"I know your every move before you even think it," Reaper continues. He firmly grabs the soldier's chin, forcing eye contact. "Always have."

 

Jack mouths the next few words a few seconds before it is said. 

 

"Always will."

 

A tear trails down the side of Jack's face when he blinks. Reaper chuckles at the sight, but wipes it away gently.

 

"I don't intend to break any of my vows, Jack. And the binding of the blood ritual will always bring us back together as long as we both live. But the witch's words are absolute, and I must obey. Tell me. Would it be so bad to live a life of immortality with me? Together?"

 

Before Jack can respond, the witch calls out to them in an impatient tone of voice.

 

"Reaper, come bring our new subject to me. The moon has almost risen. It is time for the  conversion."

 

Jack makes an agitated noise as he is swept off his feet and carried bridal style to another room. The door opens, and he can see the witch adding some finishing touch to a magic circle on the ground. There are several statues on the other side of room, placed in front of a wall that is converted into a bookshelf full of well-worn books.

 

The witch is faced away from them, and upon hearing the door's hinges creak, she calls out another command without looking up. "Good. Send him closer to me. I need to-"

 

Without letting her finish, Reaper tosses Jack like a bowling ball at the witch, the force of it knocking her forward and off her feet. Her head hits one of the statues by the wall, and she is knocked out cold.

 

Jack stares at the ceiling, feeling very dazed from the strange turn of event.

 

"Technically, I obeyed her words and brought you to her," Reaper shrugs, looking mightily pleased with himself. "You don't know how long I have wanted to do that."

 

"You mean knock her out cold, or throw me on the floor?"

 

Reaper leers down at Jack. "Both. There's a reason why it's easier to disobey her when you're around. Especially when you're so," he practically purrs the word, "distracting. I have to say, tied up and disheveled is a good look on you."

 

A throat clear interrupts them, and they turn around to see the other three mercenaries staring at them.

 

Oh god, Jack groans. He hopes that they haven't heard everything.

 

He can just picture it now - the scene that the mercenaries have stumbled upon as they burst into the witch's lair for the rescue. Jack, lying on the ground, tied down, flushed to the roots of his hair. Reaper, above Jack, looking like the cat who ate the canary. And finally, the witch, faceplanted onto the floor, squished by the top half of Jack's body, completely out cold.

 

"How sweet," Ana says.

 

"Nice aim," Genji says.

 

"Wait. Let us secure the witch first before we do anything else." Being the most sensible one, Hanzo is the first to jump into action, brandishing a magic-sealing handcuff and securing it on the wrist of the unconscious witch on the floor. "Good. Now please continue if you must."

 

"Untie me!" Jack snaps, feeling like his entire face is burning. "And let me up!"

 

With a careless motion, Reaper slashes off the ropes that had bound him immobile. The claw leaves a light mark across Jack's chest, which is undoubtedly not an accident. That possessive bastard, Jack glowers.

 

"Are you well?" Hanzo asks, concern laced in his voice. "There appears to be tear tracks on your face. It is my understanding that humans cry upon experiencing serious trauma or distress."

 

"I'm fine," Jack grumbles as he rubs and stretches out his sore limbs.

 

Goddamn Gabe and his goddamn speech. Everybody at their wedding has already teased Jack about tearing up over it once already. Of course the fucker has it memorized and ready to be recited at the most inopportune moments to make Jack's life difficult.

 

"I will bring the witch to my master," Genji says. There are now two creepy hovering eyeballs around him. "He is adept at breaking the mind so that the witch won't ever be able to order anyone around again."

 

That sounds somewhat concerning, but Jack has other things that are occupying his brain at the moment.

 

The first thing he does after he stands up is to punch the pumpkin head off of Reaper's body.

 

"You dick! Why didn't you tell me what you were planning earlier?"

 

Reaper, being who he is as a person, just shrugs. "I thought it'd be romantic? Like a metaphorical renewal of our promises to each other, this time using the blood of the witch as sacrifice. Though I guess we can't do that anymore since your companion is keen on taking her to a torture specialist."

 

"Master Zenyatta is technically a cultists, not a torture specialist," Genji interject. It goes unnoticed.

 

"I - I hate you," Jack says, but his arm betrays him and pulls the other close.

 

Reaper hums happily into the hug. "I love you too. Now that I'm finally free, it looks to me like we have a lot of catching up to do."

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Gabe drops by and holds up a vial of red substance for Jack to see.

 

"Vampire blood," he explains. "I pilfered it from the witch's treasury. I didn't get an answer before, so I'll ask again. What do you think about spending an eternal life with me?"

 

"No," Jack says, even though he already knows he is going to lose the argument. It's a matter of inevitability, really. But that's okay.

 

He doesn't mind losing over and over again to Gabe, as long as that means they will keep seeing each other over and over again. In sickness and in health. In life and in death.

**Author's Note:**

> @ giftee: I interpreted the prompt in a sillier way, and only realized later it might not be the intention. I hope you don't mind, and that you liked the gift. Have a happy holiday!
> 
> @ readers: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.


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